


Something Else

by convolutedConcussion



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/M, Inspired By Dolls' Tummy, That's really it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 16:15:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8674066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/convolutedConcussion/pseuds/convolutedConcussion
Summary: Inspired by a conversation with a buddy centered around Dolls' tummy.  It got a little outta hand.





	

“Fuck,” Dolls puffs out, fingers still flexing convulsively in the sheets as Wynonna pops off his cock and makes a spectacle of licking her lips.

“Maybe,” she murmurs into the skin at his hipbone.  “Later, if you think you’ll be ready for another round.”  It’s said with a teasing, playful lilt, but he doesn’t think he can really take offense because she just sucked his fucking brains out.

She’s got this—he doesn’t wanna call it a _fixation_ , exactly, maybe “fascination” is closer—thing for his stomach.  He’s noticed even if he’s never mentioned it.  In the too-sensitive afterglow of a frankly incredible orgasm, he’s never really had the words.  But it’s become something of a routine, peppering the curve of his belly with gentle kisses, sucking a bruise at his side, hard enough that he’ll feel it for the next couple days.  When she comes to the scar, lighter than the rest of his skin and raised up, a spot her fingers always find in the dark, she noses around it, presses her closed lips to it.  He watches her—always watches her, feels like he’s always watching her—with something akin to wonder.  Her eyes are shut, he can feel each steady, warm breath against him.  It’s a soft moment, too sweet and too tender and it clashes loudly with the urgency with which she always approaches sex, all teeth and tongue and scrabbling fingernails at his back and thighs and arms.

He asks now, “Why do you do that?”

Her eyes fly open and her head shoots up, and he feels like it may be the wrong thing to have said.  She looks embarrassed. “You don’t like it,” she frowns.

“That’s not it,” he says.

She crawls up the length of his body, drops inelegantly next to him, half on top of him.  Just when he resigns himself to not getting an answer, she pushes up onto her elbow to pin him with a stare.  “I just…” she smiles, small and self-deprecating.  “I love your body.”

The words settle heavily between them.  It’s not something they’re used to.  It’s not like they’ve talked about this, whatever this is, or dictated the parameters.  They just… go with it.  He doesn’t ask, doesn’t want to ask for something she can’t give him, doesn’t want to offer something _he_ can’t give.  There’s something, though, something in the pitch of her voice, or the way she looks at him, that makes it feel like what she’s said _means_ more than just an appreciation for his physique.

He arches up to catch her lips against his, sees the way her eyes go wide, eyebrows leaping, before she hums and lets her eyes slide shut, settling into him.  He feels the warm spread of her fingers against his jaw, and they stay there even when she pulls away to press their foreheads together, eyes still closed.

After a beat, she rolls off of him, clears her throat loudly, and asks the ceiling, “So, we can take a nap now, right?”

“Wynonna,” he says, feigning exasperation.  “It’s three in the afternoon.”

“Yeah,” she allows, twining their fingers.  “So, nap time, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this isn't like... a story or anything, I just had some extra feelings to deal with, nbd.
> 
> Shameless self-promotion [Tumblr](http://johnisntevendead.tumblr.com) link.


End file.
